A Padlock Dance
We were tweed – tight as stitches,
but come night, we dressed as scarecrows.
Danced the fields into a paradise ditch,
lying there side by parallel side,
mirrored in fading thoughts.
We were hungry as weeds, had an affinity
for imported gin and green olives.
Your jagged tooth split my lip in the perversity
of our lock. No keys, you said. No worries,
and we snapped shut like a padlock.